Boy
by wreckofherheart
Summary: Not everyone is better in the abstract. [Sequel to Alex]


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Terror harbours in his eyes, and he clutches the toy truck, staring up at you. Already, you consider turning back, because the way he watches you is heartbreaking. He looks exactly like his mother, but so young. You want to ask how he got here on his own, if he has someone to pick him up later. You want to ask him questions only a mother would ask, but neither of you speak. You haven't sat down yet. The moment you saw him, you were stunned, incapable of moving.

He looks up at you the way he used to as a baby. Lips parted, eyes wide, in awe. You realise this is the first time he's ever seen you since you left, and you sympathise. Because you know exactly what it's like to meet a parent you've always dreamed of approaching. Daniel Chapman's short, blond hair is neatly combed, and he has a soft face, a sensitive, caring face, almost fragile. The toy truck is abandoned and he blinks, swallows, and finally he manages to form words.

'Hi,' he says, timid. 'I'm Daniel.'

It's too late to walk away. 'I know exactly who you are.'

Sitting opposite the child, you struggle to not study his appearance. He's dressed in a brown top, jeans, and he hunches forward, possibly insecure, or because he's trying to come to terms with who you are. The boy frowns, but it's not a judgemental frown, it's nothing cruel. He wants to know you. He came here because he wants to know you. You wonder how long he's been waiting for this moment, and you are frightened to death that he'll leave disappointed.

Everything is silent between the two of you. Daniel's expression is so hard to read, but is painted with hundreds of emotions and thoughts. The boy is like an open book –– he can't hide his feelings. He can't hide the fact he's amazed to see you, he's worried, anxious, and that he's hoping he's made the right decision in coming here. You guess he's nearing five now, just started school. He's learning how to write and read, he's growing up, and you're missing it all; your heart skips a beat.

Daniel's voice is quiet. 'I don't think Mummy wants me here.'

'That's okay. I won't tell her if you won't.' You're pleased you sound confident, but inside you're shattering apart. You don't want to imagine what Piper thinks of you, you don't want to imagine Piper _at all_. It's torture, remembering that woman, the last words she said to you –– _don't say good bye_. You inhale sharply, look away from the boy, because if you watch him for too long, you're afraid of what may happen. He looks so much like Piper it's unbearable. 'How did you get here?'

'Someone took me. They're waiting outside.'

Another long pause. You lean back in your seat. 'Do you know who I am?'

The corner of Daniel's lips twitch upwards. 'Yeah.' It's starting to get very cold, and you hold your breath. 'You're my Mummy too, right?'

Oh.

_Oh, God_.

You grit your teeth, avert your gaze. You are not his mother. Whatever he says, you are not his mother, because mothers stay with their child; they don't fucking abandon them. You do not deserve to be called a mother. You don't deserve it. 'Right.' But you can't deny it, you can't deny you still love this child, and even if it's been five years, he's still the same baby you held in your arms. He's still exactly the same. 'How––?' You stop. You haven't uttered Piper's name in so long, it feels _wrong_, 'How is she? Your mother?'

'She misses you.'

Pause.

'I think she wants you to come home.'

'Well.' You swallow. If you're not careful, you'll slip. You'll cry. 'I can't.'

Daniel's eyes shine, and you realise tears are pooling. He exhales shakily. 'Why not?'

You can't do this. You _can't_ do this. Straightening in your seat, you try to maintain your composure, you try to be the adult here, you try to convince him you're a stable, mature woman. You can handle anything. Because you want this child to look up to you. You don't want to disappoint him. You don't want him to look at you the same way you looked at your father. But you're only human. You're only an inmate. A criminal. A waste to society, and you _can't_ let him watch you with those wonderful, large blue eyes.

There's so much hope, so much joy waiting to be discovered.

And you will crush it all.

'I just can't,' you reply. He isn't satisfied with that answer. A tear trickles down his cheek, and you're ashamed of yourself, so fucking ashamed. It hasn't even been five minutes and he's already crying. When your eyes start to sting, when your vision blurs, you remove your glasses. Stop yourself. You can't cry in front of this child, _your_ child. 'You know I'd go home with you if I could.'

'Why'd you leave?' He whispers.

For a five year old, you're impressed with his wisdom, his smart questions, and you want to compliment him for that, but you can't find your voice. Daniel clenches a fist, and makes no effort to wipe away the tears which continue to fall. You want to hold him, hold him tightly; you want him to know he comes first, but you have little options. You have _no_ options. You do not have the right to options. They were stolen from you the moment you gave yourself in. Daniel waits, and he's so patient.

'You must understand I didn't have a choice. I–– I had done a very bad thing. I have to be here.'

Daniel frowns. 'What d'you mean?'

'I––' You exhale slowly. 'I haven't left you, kid. I've done this in order to protect you. To protect you and Pipe–– your mother. I did this for the both of you. I wouldn't have done this if I had a better option.' He shakes his head lightly. 'I wasn't a good person, before. I worked for a bad man. I was a bad person, and now I'm trying to be a good person again. Do you understand?'

'But when will you come back?' Never. You'll never come back. As soon as you're out, you'll be advised to stay away from loved ones; you need to be protected yourself in case Kubra is after you. You can't handle lying to this boy. You can't handle saying anything, and you're quiet. Daniel sighs, upset, broken. He's too young to be hurt so much. 'I hear Mummy cry at night.'

'I'm sorry.' You won't last long. It's taking everything in you to not fall apart.

Daniel sniffles, and another tear drops from his cheek to the table.

'I imagine she's spoken of me,' you say.

He nods. 'Yeah. A lot.' He blinks. 'D'you talk about us?'

You raise a brow. 'All the time.' A lie. You haven't mentioned Piper and Daniel to anyone, but seeing him smile is worth the agony, worth the amount of _hatred_ you have for yourself. 'I miss you all the time.' You slipped. You spoke before thinking, and you should not have voiced those six words. Hands trembling, you wipe away a stray tear, but Daniel reacts; he sobs quietly again. The connection you both share hasn't snapped; it remains firm. Whatever you feel is double for him and vice versa. A curse.

'I don't like it here.'

'I don't either.'

'Can't you come out for a while? Just be with us?'

'I can't.'

'Why...?'

'I've already said why.' You try to keep your voice soft, gentle; you're so afraid of scaring him. But tears continue to drip from his cheeks. His lower lip quivers, and he's watching you, helpless. It's unfair, and cruel of you to not go home with him. He went all of this way to meet you, he went through so much effort to see you; you know what that's like. In some desperate attempt to change the subject, you ask how school is, what his favourite subject is so far. He sniffles, wipes his face.

'Uh––' Daniel looks down at the table in thought. 'I like Maths.'

'Oh.' You smile. 'I was awful at Maths.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, but thankfully you don't have my genes.' He smiles a little. 'Do you have friends?'

It's not a question he wants to answer. You can see it in his eyes. Immediately, there's shock, worry. You recognise that expression. It's how you used to look whenever your mother asked about school, about friends. Because you didn't have any. You didn't have any friends, and a rage courses through you, and you hope –– _hope_ –– Daniel isn't in the same boat. You_hope_.

'... they make fun of me.'

You scowl. Quickly control your expression. 'What do they do?'

'Call me weird.'

'Hey,' you lean forward. 'You are not weird. Don't let anyone tell you that –– they're full of shit.'

Daniel raises his brows in surprise, and he's stunned for a while as he stares at you. 'You just said the "s" word.'

'I did. That was... Sorry.'

'D'you think I'm weird?'

'No. And you're _not_ weird.' You hesitate. 'You're cool.'

It's what he wants to hear. And he smiles, 'Okay.'

That's all he needs. Just you to confirm he is not "weird" –– that's all he needs. What you say means that much to him, and you're horrified. You used to have so much influence over those you groomed as your drug mules. They absorbed your every word, fed off your affection, obeyed your every command. The control was so _addictive_, you wanted more and more.

But you don't know what to feel about this. You don't know if you want Daniel to _trust_ you so easily, but he's always trusted you, ever since he was a baby. You remember the first time you held him, when he instantly stopped crying; being held by you was all he required in order to calm down, be happy. You miss that. You miss holding him, you miss being with him, and you miss Piper.

Fuck.

_Fuck_, you miss her so _much_.

Daniel looks to the right, observes an inmate and her friend embrace quickly before a CO snaps at them. You continue to watch him. He looks worried. Scared. What you both share is vulnerable, easily smashed, and you cling to every moment you have with your child. You don't want him to leave, but you know he must. You know he can't stay here. You know he has to go.

When the boy meets your gaze, you dread the next question. 'How much longer are you here for?'

'One more year.'

'Will you come back to live with me and Mummy?'

'I'm not allowed to.'

'But...' He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand. '... where will you go?'

You can't hold back. You blink, and tears are eventually released. It feels good to cry, finally –– you were foolish to believe you could control yourself. Inhaling, you wipe your moist cheeks with the back of your hand. Grab your glasses, pull them on, look at your son. He's crying too. 'Somewhere safe.' You force a smile. 'I don't want you worrying about where I'm going to live, though. All right?'

A nod. 'Okay.'

'I–– You can't come back here again. Mummy doesn't want you coming alone because––' _Because I wouldn't want that. Piper doesn't want Daniel to see me because I don't want that. Piper knows I'm only doing what's best for them; she knows that. _'––because you can't be here.'

'Don't leave me.'

'... I'm...' It's hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to focus. You can't believe he said that; _you can't believe what you're doing to this innocent, wonderful boy_. 'I can't stay.' Daniel folds his arms, leans back, glares at you, venom swimming in his eyes. 'I'm sorry. I am.'

'No, you're not.'

'I am.'

'Not fair.'

'I know.'

Daniel's expression softens, and, for a moment, you think he's giving up. You think he finally understands. But the tears return, and they pour, _leak_ from his eyes and you stiffen. 'There's no one else,' he whispers, _desperate_. 'There's no one else. You're meant to be with us. I know it.'

You try to stay composed.

It doesn't work.

'Someone else is. You'll have a father one day, or maybe another mother, and they'll do a better job than me.'

Daniel shakes his head. Stubborn. 'No, they won't.' A beat. You feel a hot tear linger on your cheek. 'They won't and you're saying stupid things.'

'Wanna know something, kid?' You shrug. 'I'm a fuck up. You wouldn't want me to be with you. I'm just–– _brilliant_ at handling things completely wrong. I always say stupid things. It's... It's all I seem to do nowadays. Just say stupid things. I say stupid things and that gets me into trouble.'

'I can teach you to say smart things, then.'

Nothing. You say nothing. You both just stare at each other.

Daniel slides the toy truck in your direction. 'You _do_ smart things, though.' It's as if it were yesterday when you gave him that toy. 'Like me.'

'What smart things do you do?' A whisper.

'I can read.'

'What do you read?'

'Books.'

'Do you like reading?'

He blinks. 'It's the only thing I'm good at.'

'Oh.' You pause. 'It's the only thing I'm good at, too.'

And he finds solace in that. He sighs, relieved. 'You gave me my truck.'

'Yeah.'

'You can keep it if you want.'

'I––' _You can't keep it, you're not allowed_. But you can't tell him the truth. You can't tell him what a horror this prison is. 'I bought it for you, Daniel. It's yours.'

'I want to give it to you –– to keep you company.'

So, you take the truck, hold it for a while. It's used, you can see scrapes in the red paint. Daniel watches you intently, waiting. You look at him. Place the truck down. Slide it back his way. 'It belongs with you, not me.'

'Oh.'

Daniel holds the truck. Traces his finger over the surface, then faces you. And you swear you are looking at Piper Chapman. The blue eyes, blond, golden hair. The excitement, curiosity and fear of what's to come. The love she held for you, even after every shitty little thing you did. The fact she took you back, she held you, helped you overcome your addiction, your misery. Daniel reflects her generosity, her fragile state of mind; he reflects everything good and beautiful about Piper that you have sorely missed.

And your son reflects your passion, your insecurity, how frightened you truly are of being abandoned. He looks at you the way you first looked at your father –– awed, amazed, surprised._Fucking defeated_. And you hope, you hope, you hope, hope, _hope_ that you are not better in the abstract. You hope. It's all you can do, and you're helpless, vulnerable to the judgment of this child who means _everything_ to you.

Daniel _feels_ your sadness, and cries one more time. The space between you both is filled with silence again, but it's peace; it's not at all awkward. It's _real_. It's a moment you and your son can share. Neither of you have to fill in the gaps. Neither of you have to say a word. Words aren't necessary. You've never needed words with Piper, and you've never needed words with Daniel. You sit, watch him, and you let him cry a little, you let your heart _tear_ in two as he struggles to smile.

Leaning over, you take his hand in yours.

Eleven seconds. You hold his hand for eleven seconds, because your affection is limited, timed. You can't have him. Daniel's fingers curl around palm, and his eyes remain on yours, focussed, but gentle. Warm. His irises so blue, a sea of mystery, a deep sky, _shattered_. He knows exactly who you are; he remembers you, he knows you held him as a baby, he knows you sacrificed everything you own for him. He knows who you are, he knows you've done a terrible thing, he knows you're fixing your mistakes.

And he knows you'll be the one who walks away this time.

You release him. He doesn't move.

_Already, he's slipping away_.

'Don't come back.'

'Ever?'

'Ever.'

'... do you not love me?'

Maybe he's misinterpreted you, maybe he's uncertain, but you have to answer. 'No. I do. I really do.' A little hope shines in his eyes. 'You've got to say it back.' You are both uncertain, you are both scared, you are both aware of this fear which is impossible to shake off. You need to hear him say it back, just like he needed you to say it first. Because each second is ticking, and there's no time to beat around the bush. You have to speak, you both have to speak, let it all out.

'I do, too.'

You forget how to smile. Daniel takes his truck.

Then, you realise it's time to go home. You realise he has to leave, he has to leave you, and you realise you'll never see him again. This is all you have left. Daniel's lower lip quivers, he squints, tries to stop anymore tears from falling. Suddenly, you don't care about your restrictions, you don't care about yourself anymore. You don't care what happens to you.

Sliding off your seat, you kneel beside him and he collapses into your arms. Daniel's embrace is gentle, but his fingers dig into your khaki top, and he rests his head against your shoulder. He starts to tremble, and you hold him a little tighter. He smells like Piper –– of sunshine, the slightest hint of strawberries (does he like them too?), and home. He smells like home, and you don't know how to let him go.

You can't.

Daniel doesn't budge, and his small arms don't fall away from you when a CO approaches. 'Come on now,' he says, cold, unsympathetic, fucking ignorant. You hate him. You've never hated anyone more. Daniel clings to your top when you gently push him away. 'That's enough.'

'Just–– give us a moment, yeah?' You snap, furious.

The CO glares. Daniel doesn't move. You both stare the CO down, and he takes a step back, before returning to his original post. You know you're going to be given a shot, but you don't care. Daniel wants to hug you again, however you can't let him, otherwise you won't be able to let him leave you at all. He has to go. He has to go before it's too late.

'Tell Mummy I said "hi".'

Stoic. Remain stoic. Even when you wipe away a few stray tears from his soft cheeks, even when he tries to pull you in for another hug, even when he sniffles, even when he looks at you for answers, for explanations, for information, for guidance, for comfort, for love. Even when he looks at you _for a mother_. You kiss his forehead, and a huge piece of you is detached from your body, _ripped_ off.

'Bye.'

'Bye.'

He grabs his truck. Looks at you, and you imagine taking his hand, leaving this Hell with him. You imagine a life with this boy, with Piper. But your dreams are crushed when he walks over towards the door, and is gone. You wait a moment, wait for him to possibly return. The CO appears beside you, and you stand to your feet. He's saying something, warning you, threatening you for acting inappropriately, but you can't hear him. You continue to watch the empty doorway, but he doesn't come back.

You are escorted to your cell block. Inmates chatter, unknowing, smiling when they are dancing with devils and burning in fire. The mattress beneath you is cold, unfriendly. You grab your novel, open it to the page you're at, try to read the first sentence, but your vision blurs, you lose focus. The book masks your face as you grieve for what you have lost, and for what was never yours to lose.

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**author's note**: Quite a handful of you wanted a sequel to _Alex_, so here you go. Thank you very much for reading, and please do leave some feedback. This is just a oneshot, I'm afraid, as I have no intention to continue this verse.


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